


Snarl

by Owlship



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Max, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fighting, First Meetings, Forced/Unwanted Arousal, Incidental Cunnilingus, Knotting, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Max Stays, Omega Furiosa, Reluctant Emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:44:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9589337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlship/pseuds/Owlship
Summary: She can tell that the feral blood-bag is an alpha even before the wind shifts to bring his scent to them, confirming it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [a kinkmeme prompt](https://madmaxkink.dreamwidth.org/3004.html?thread=1792956#cmt1792956): "(Alpha!Max and Omega!Furiosa) Max doesn't get the revolver in that first fight - he manages to get Furiosa pinned and tries to subdue her by growling in her ear/biting her neck. Which gets him close enough to smell her properly."

She can tell that the feral blood-bag is an alpha even before the wind shifts to bring his scent to them, confirming it. There are betas who are strong enough to carry that much dead weight after being bled out during the chase, but no beta holds themselves like that. Confident, self assured even when feral and clearly scared out of his damn mind. Cocky.

It's a minor detail, one that only adds an extra layer of urgency to what is already a life-or-death situation. Furiosa waits to see what he'll do, that shotgun trained on the Wives instead of her. Smart move for a feral.

He gets distracted, the chain on his muzzle pulling his head away, and it's all the opening she needs.

She fights fast and hard and dirty, uses all the hard bony parts of her body and whatever she can get her hand on, sand in his eyes and boltcutters swinging through the air. The way she'd had to learn how to fight when she was tossed to the War Boys and her options were fucktoy or fighter. She'd only learned how to cover up her scent with grease and sand and blood later; at first, it was a constant battle.

This blood-bag is strong considering how poorly blood-bags get treated and Furiosa wishes desperately that she'd kept her prosthesis on, even though it really had needed the sand brushed out. Every second it seems as if who has the upper hand changes, the Wives and the War Boy who's chained to the feral helping and impeding in turns from outside the struggle.

She gets one of her hidden guns and fires a bullet; he turns his head just enough to avoid it. The magazine goes in one direction and the gun another and there isn't any time to reach for either because she's pulling the chain against his throat, he's stabbing her middle with a pointed elbow, the both of them are scrabbling on the sand for anything to use as a weapon, any way to get an advantage.

The feral is heavier than her, stronger in brute strength, nearly as desperate. He gets his weight on her middle and her wrist in one of his hands, and damn him for being an alpha because of course he grabs for the back of her neck with the other, unthinking. Furiosa resists as much as she can but her biology is hardwired to go limp and soft when there's just that exact pressure, when there's an alpha's heady musk in her nose.

Her struggles weaken despite her wishes, and she closes her eyes tight because they're fucked now.

There's a breathless pause and then he leans down to put his muzzled face right up against hers; the metal is cold and hard against her skin, the threat of his teeth barely restrained. He takes in a deep inhale of her skin, right over her beating pulse where her scent's collecting, surely betraying her with him so close. "Omega," he says in a deep raspy voice, like he's surprised.

Furiosa tries to snarl but the noise comes out weak, pathetic.

With such a simple move she's lost the fight entirely and can only wait, her future hanging on his decision. She doesn't think he's looking for a body to rut into when there's the Citadel on their tail but he's feral, could be thinking anything.

The adrenaline in her veins, his scent in her nose, the weight and warmth of him pressed against her- it's a bad mix. If it wasn't for the muzzle he could bite down on her skin, bloody her up and keep her still for him to rape or kill, to bind her to him on his whim. She can feel the muscles in her limbs relaxing, can feel herself getting hot and wet, and it's only an animal response meant to keep her from getting injured but she's disgusted with herself and her body for giving in so quickly and so easily.

The blood-bag takes one more deep sniff and then pulls himself away, weight still on her back and hand still on her neck.

In the distance she can hear the drums of the Doof Wagon growing louder, something else to get her blood pumping faster. The pressure on her neck doesn't let up for a second even as he frees her wrist, keeping her pinned more effectively than almost any other hold, and Furiosa lets herself imagine ripping his throat out with her teeth when she gets free of it.

She won't, is the problem. Subdued like this her body is gearing up to accept him, a holdover from humanity's savage past that's once again relevant to the way things are. This alpha's beat her and her instincts are screaming appeasement, are telling her that he's strong and cunning to have taken her down, are going to refuse to let her hurt him until she can be sure he won't hurt her. It's humiliating to have her body acting like this without her permission to signal her defeat, her submission. As if she _wants_ to be held under his control.

The War Boy he was chained to crowds in close, a beta unknowing or uncaring about the dangers of getting between an alpha and the omega he's captured. He babbles about how Joe will shred her- he won't get the chance, she refuses- and the blood-bag growls deep in his chest.

"Boltcutters," he says harshly, "Chain."

Above her she hears the snap of metal being cut while the War Boy babbles on, oblivious.

The alpha's hand is suddenly gone from her neck and she sucks in a huge gasp, mouth close enough to the sand that she nearly chokes on it. His weight is gone too, the heat of his body pressing against hers, and Furiosa very slowly pushes herself up. She tries to avoid any pose that resembles presenting for him, doesn't want her body to get any worse and doesn't want to give him any encouragement. Her arms and legs are shaky and everything is overly bright and loud, all her senses dialed to eleven. The back of her neck prickles, skin gone cold without his hand laying there.

Just this won't be enough to force her to go into heat but it's going to be an uncomfortable few hours, assuming she lives that long.

The Wives crowd up behind her as the feral punches the War Boy, knocking the wind out of him so he curls up on the sand.

He still has the muzzle locked on, only the long chain of it snipped short. He stares wild-eyed at her, at the growing war party in the distance, at the War Rig. It's impossible to know what he's thinking, what path he's going to take; capturing her and the Wives might be enough to grant him freedom, might even earn him herself as a prize if Joe decides it's a fitting punishment. Furiosa bares her teeth, a useless threat.

"Up," he says, hand extended like he wants her to take it.

Some stupid, primal part of her wants to scramble upright and follow him wherever he wants, and she ruthlessly thrusts it aside. The music's getting louder and louder, and he won't be able to drive the Rig without knowing the kill-switch sequence. She can't beat him in a fight like this but he's apparently dumb enough to have let his own instincts get attached, and she's never been hesitant to exploit weaknesses.

"Not without them," Furiosa says, arm outflung to keep one of the Wives- she can't tell which without taking her eyes off the threat- from marching up to the Rig on her own.

The alpha's nostrils flare, and she wonders if he's seeing disobedience or maternal concern in the action, an omega defending her brood. She tilts her head a fraction of a centimeter, as if to bare her throat to him.

He makes a low wordless noise and nods his head once, sharp.

Furiosa gets back to her feet, legs no longer quite as weak shaky even if she's still throbbing and wet with unwanted desire, and tells the women to get in. She grabs her arm off the wing mirror and straps it back in place, sure that the outcome would have been vastly different if she had it on in the first place.

The blood-bag stands by the driver's door, clearly waiting for her to climb up and sit passenger.

"I installed kill-switches," she tells him with vicious pleasure. "You needed me anyway."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Whoops, my hand slipped. Happy belated Valentine's Day!

The buzz in her veins should have died down hours ago but Furiosa's still on edge, even now that the night is quiet. She's always aware of the people around her but she finds her eyes drawn back to the alpha again and again, twitching at every noise and move he makes.

It isn't fear, not anymore. He's proven himself to her, deferring to her orders even though she'd _lost_ , even though he's an alpha and alphas are always primed to take.

She shifts her weight in her seat and tries to ignore the fact that there's a throb between her thighs even now, when she doesn't have the excuse of adrenaline and pressure points to blame. And now that they're coming out of the bog, now that he's proven himself by coming back with someone else's blood on his skin and their enemies falling to the wayside, coming back with a haul of supplies like he's _providing_ -

There hadn't been any reason to fight against the instinct to keep close, to keep herself from harming him, when she realized he could be an asset in the canyon. And he'd gone along with it, waited on her word and then fought not against her but _with_ her, the energy that kept their fight well-matched now turning their shooting into a rhythm, a dance. Or a good fuck.

Furiosa doesn't shake her head to clear it but she shifts in place again, thighs pressing together because she can't help but try to relieve the hot ache even though she knows it's better to ignore it. The Wives are in the back of the cab, sleeping or nearly so, the War Boy curled up like he's one of them, betas all and oblivious to the cord that feels as if it's a living thing stretching between her and the feral.

The alpha clears his throat, low, and her attention snaps to him again.

"We should switch soon," she says. She certainly isn't going to be able to sleep, not with this energy in her, with the knowledge that she's nearly close enough to home to see it on the horizon.

He makes a wordless sort of humming noise. "You're, ah," he says, but then stops.

Furiosa waits to see if he's going to finish the thought.

"Are you going into heat?" he asks, and she goes tense.

"No," she snaps reflexively. He makes another quiet noise, not disputing her, but she hardly pays him any attention while she takes stock of herself. She's been stewing in unwanted arousal since he pinned her by the neck, and things never did dim down all the way again, and she can't stop her attention from circling back to him, and all of it is just because of the situation, the stress of fleeing for their lives.

She keeps perfect track of her cycle and she has thirty-two days before her next heat- thirty-one, now, with the night turning to early morning. There isn't any reason to question whether she's going into heat or not, except she's still so achingly wet, is sure her scent is filling the cab even through her careful layers of grime. His certainly is, a heady undertone that nearly blends in with the cold metal and powder of her guns, something she has to consciously stop herself from seeking out.

"Switch off the wheel," Furiosa says, no longer a suggestion.

The alpha looks at her out of the corner of his eyes and says nothing, before nodding. Accepting her order even with the cord of instinctual submission tying her to him. The ground is still much too soft for her to want to risk pulling to a stop if they don't have to so they slide past one another as they exchange places. She feels hyper-aware of every tiny place they touch for the brief seconds it takes, takes far too much notice in the way she can smell him sharper now.

He curls into himself somewhat, shoulders creeping up almost defensively against the metal of the door, and she forces her attention back to the road ahead of them.

   
  


By midafternoon Furiosa is riding passenger again, and it's impossible to ignore the fact that she's still keyed up. It isn't a heat, not really- she can think, she's in control of herself- but it's very much not normal, either.

The alpha hasn't said a word about it since but she's still overly aware of him, can hear the deep inhales he takes sometimes. She wonders if he's getting worked up too, if he's getting hard just off the promise of her scent.

It's a good thing their passengers are betas; they might be aware of some of it, but they won't be picking up on the nuances, won't be able to track both their conditions as they deteriorate.

Furiosa's glad for the break where she can stick her head out of the sunroof, nothing but hot desert air to fill her lungs. If she takes a little vindictive pleasure in propping her leg up on the dashboard for balance knowing it puts her cunt about eye-level with him, well, her expression is hidden by the binoculars she's looking through. The clarity of fresh air helps her focus on the tower in the distance and for a moment she utterly forgets about the alpha and the buzz under her skin because she recognizes the sight, can almost smell the green.

   
  


It's Valkyrie who collects her when she's no longer able to scream, who leads her to the little cooking fire they've set up and gives her a blanket to cover herself with. It's obviously one that hasn't been used in a while because it smells like sand and old leather, neutral; a thoughtful gesture the likes of which she can barely tolerate.

Furiosa feels hollowed out, weak and small.

They argue in circles about what to do next, to stay where they are or use the supplies she's stolen to get somewhere, to start over. She sits quietly next to Valkyrie and takes comfort in her presence, in the alpha smell of her. She hadn't presented yet before the raiders came, but it doesn't surprise Furiosa that she's an alpha.

She can feel the presence of the feral, sitting apart from the discussion but impossible to ignore.

It's the Wives who decide their direction in the end, unafraid to argue with women two, three times their elder who are seasoned by a life in the wastes instead of one in a cage nursing lofty ideals. The Plains of Silence are vast but they have the supplies, and there are enough rumors of what's on the other side to think there _is_ an other side.

Furiosa gives her vote quietly and lists into Val's side, tired despite the way her nerves buzz, her skin a size or two too small.

"Furi," Valkyrie says softly once the discussion circle disperses, arm moving to cross over her back. "Are you going to be okay? We don't have to leave tomorrow."

"Why would we wait?" she says. Every day spent here is a day spent wasting their supplies, a day where Joe might decide to cross the swamp after all.

"Even the betas can tell you're going into heat," Val says with a teasing lilt to her voice.

Furiosa straightens up, all the ease she'd gained leaving her as her body tenses. "I'm not," she says. She has thirty days left and besides, she can ride a bike through it. Or at least control herself well enough to sit pillion, take one of the sidecars.

Valkyrie smiles at her a little, and leans in- slow enough to avoid, if she wanted- and takes a sniff of her skin right along her neck. The feeling of her hair against her, the presence of an alpha so close, warm breath against her throat has Furiosa shivering, breath hitching.

From somewhere behind her she hears a deep growl and that has her shivering, too.

Val leans back away and says, "Yeah?"

She blinks slowly, her vision hazy, and loses the battle against pretending she isn't in heat. It's the feral alpha's fault, damn him; she can still feel a cord stretching between them, can still feel the phantom press of his hand against her neck, his weight bearing down on her.

Furiosa looks over her shoulder to see him sitting against a wheel of the Rig, staring intently at her for a moment before jerking his gaze away.

"I could help you," Valkyrie says, and she turns back to look at her. They'd talked about it after she presented and it feels like a lifetime ago, fresh out of her first heat and still aching with the lonely emptiness.

She's never spent a heat with an alpha before; Joe was a beta and so was Ace, the one time she was caught out on a patrol and was willing to trust him. She already trusts Valkyrie, even with the weight of seven thousand days separating their lives, but she can feel the alpha who'd pushed her into an early heat only meters away and her body burns at the thought of him touching her, of him silencing the aching emptiness in her with his knot, of his teeth breaking skin and claiming her for good.

Furiosa shakes her head, a rejection of Val's offer and an attempt to clear her head. She can't bond with anyone, can't give in to what her instincts are screaming at her to do, and that's what will happen if she lets an alpha take her.

"Okay," Valkyrie says, and pats her hand against her back. "Should we oust the lovebirds out of your truck's roost?"

That sounds like a good idea, a quiet small space to curl up in for the night where the wind will sweep away the scent of the alphas. It also sounds like a terrible idea, but she can recognize that urge as having come from the stupid place that wants nothing more than to be covered and filled by the feral.

Capable and Nux frown at being taken out of their spot, but go willingly enough. Val pets over her head as Furiosa settles in, hand stroking down the back of her neck without any pressure at all, and then climbs back down the tanker to leave her alone.

She curls into herself, blanket wrapped tight, and tries to hold off from touching herself. She's so wet, has been since the day before, her cunt aching for whatever relief it can get, but once she starts it's going to be hard to stop and she's so exposed out here, so on edge.

Furiosa lays down on her stomach on the cold metal of the War Rig and stares down the spine of it, out onto the Plains ahead. Off to her left she can hear the others bedding down, fire extinguished and a watch set ranged out on the surrounding hills.

She breathes the night air, clean of everything but sand and the slight beta scent left from Capable and her War Boy, and tries to will herself into sleeping. If she sleeps through the heat fever maybe she can avoid the worst of it, can hold herself in while they ride out. It feels like a bad one, building up from a long simmer but not quite boiling in her veins yet.

She has no idea how she's going to handle riding alongside the feral tomorrow, the rumbling of a bike between her legs and his alpha scent in her nose. Maybe she can ride _with_ him, press herself up along his back and rub herself off- maybe he can sit behind her and she'll hold onto the handlebars to keep them going while he touches her instead.

Furiosa turns over onto her back to look at the stars, hand rubbing low on her stomach but not quite close enough for the feeling to hit her cunt.

She has no idea when the acidic resentment turned into desire, if it's genuine or if it's only because of their fight, of how steady he held her and the connection that garnered. She's never wanted an alpha like this before- it's all she can think about during her heats, of course, but she's never actually wanted anyone specific, never thought about wanting them outside the desperate need of heat.

The stars burn overhead, imperceptibly moving, and she realizes that she's never said anything to the feral about coming with them. He sat apart from their decision-making, and he was pulled into this route because of her; he might want to leave now that the danger's passed.

She gets back up and scans the camp; it's quiet, dark. He wouldn't be curled in with the others but she doesn't see anyone by themselves except for those on watch, and neither of them has his build. Furiosa walks to the front of the tanker and moves as quietly as she can to the cab, unsurprised when her nose confirms his presence before her eyes do.

The alpha is awake, gaze meeting hers through the shot-out windows.

She's caught fast for a moment before she swings over the rest of the way, until she's crouched in the back of the cab with him. Fuck but he smells good, better than she'd remembered. She pulls in a breath that's deeper than she means and nearly feels her head spin with it, her cunt giving an aching throb.

"We're going across the Salt tomorrow," Furiosa says.

He tilts his head. "You should leave."

His hands are resting in his lap, one leg cocked up on the bench and the other trailing down, and she could so easily slot herself in between them.

"You'll have a bike," she says, trying not to let herself be drawn closer to him. "You should come with us."

The alpha watches her, chest rising and falling as he takes deep steady breaths. It isn't a question of whether he wants her or not- he's an alpha and she's an omega in heat, there isn't any way to _not_ want one another- it's whether he's going to act on it, whether he's going to mate her or not.

She wants him to, wants him to stay at her side, this strange feral alpha who hasn't made any moves on her and won't even tell her his name. Even in heat she can't make herself say the words out loud.

"No," he says.

Rage flares in her as strongly as her desire and she bares her teeth, even though she still feels the link between them, the screaming of her instincts to not harm him. Furiosa surges forward and like he was ready for her he grabs her before she's halfway there, catching her wrist in one hand and her elbow with the other, holding her as she thrashes in the confined space.

"Quiet," he growls, and she snarls wordlessly back.

He grabs for the back of her neck without warning and squeezes down, inexorable pressure that has her quivering as her body softens, goes limp and pliant. It's not fair that he's done this twice, that she can feel her cunt ache all the more for being held fast like this.

He dips his face into the curve of her neck and inhales while she lets out a quiet noise, unsure if it's a protest or encouragement. He lets go of her wrist and grabs her hip instead, drawing her in until she can feel the hard line of his cock against her leg, a promise that has her letting out a whimper.

And then he's shoving her back so she nearly stumbles and falls against the door, her legs not following her commands just yet.

"You should leave," he says, his voice rough.

"And if I don't?" she asks. He looks as if he's bracing himself with the backs of the seats, strong shoulders filling out the width of the backseat. Want clutches low in her belly at the sight of him, at the way she can practically still feel his hands on her.

The alpha is quiet, only the sound of him dragging in a breath to be heard. "Leave," he repeats.

Furiosa snarls at him- she's in heat because of him, he can't just turn her away like this- but he's said no and she isn't going to sink low enough to force him. She climbs out the window again, this time dropping down to the sand below instead of returning to the gunner's nest.

There's nothing on this side of the Rig, just sand stretching out so far it's lost in the dark of night. She takes a breath of clear air and starts walking, needing to do _something_ if she isn't allowed to fuck her alpha. The energy crackling under her skin doesn't diminish, the wet ache only getting worse the more she moves her legs.

She walks a fair distance and then turns back, debating whether she should climb back up the Rig or if she should wake Valkyrie, despite the fact that it isn't her knot she really wants, isn't her who her entire being is screaming to be bonded to.

The alpha is looking out the window at her. Furiosa gets herself halfway there before baring her teeth and hoping he sees the flash of threatening white, and then turns away again and paces back the way she came. She feels his eyes on her back the entire time and when she faces him again he's still watching.

She walks in a straight line to the War Rig, a straight line to him. This time she walks up all the way to the cab and the alpha doesn't flinch away, sitting close to the open window and nostrils flaring as he takes in her scent. She climbs up and hooks her elbow around the window frame so they're at a level and still he doesn't flinch, eyes boring into her from a handspan away.

She reaches her hand and puts it on the back of his head, tugging him in for a kiss when he still doesn't do anything to move away. His mouth is rough against hers, beard scratching her skin.

"Changed your mind, alpha?" she asks.

He makes a low noise that's not quite a growl and kisses her again. She wants to climb back in there with him but forces herself to stay pressed to the cold metal door.

"They won't smell us if we're up top," Furiosa says. They _will_ , but they'll smell them less.

He nods, and she starts swinging herself up- only to be arrested by his arm wrapping around her waist. The alpha presses his face to the front of her trousers and she whines, unable to move without upsetting her balance but wanting to open her legs, to let him try and taste her through the leather. She wouldn't be surprised if it's possible, if she's been so wet for so long that she's soaked straight through.

He nuzzles her crotch for a moment and then draws back, his hand lowering to her ass and pushing just a little like he's going to give her a boost up.

She scrambles onto the roof of the cab and waits until he climbs up himself. Furiosa kisses him, again and again, until he nips the skin under her jaw and nudges her towards the tank.

It's a cold night but she feels hot, feverish as she walks down the length of the War Rig. The alpha is close behind her; when she reaches the rear nest she turns to face him, grabbing the front of his jacket to tug him close to kiss again.

This time he touches her, backing her up against the lip of the perch's roof while his hands roam over the tops of her clothes. She's surprised somehow by the noise that leaves her mouth when he slides a leg between hers and she rocks herself on his thigh, when she feels his hard cock against her hip.

Furiosa breaks off the kiss to bury her face in the crook of his neck, between warm skin and worn leather, and fill her lungs with the scent of him. Alphas have an appealing scent most days but even filthy he smells incredible, better than she can remember any other alpha smelling.

"Okay," he says quietly, "Easy now."

One of his hands is curled around her ass, encouraging the grinding movements she can't help; it's just a bit of pressure and friction but with the warmth of his body against hers, his scent in her nose, the knowledge that for once she isn't going to be left wanting...

The alpha makes an approving sound when she gasps, shuddering to a halt as she comes.

Any relief she gets from her orgasm is short-lived, her body crying out for more. "You need to fuck me," she tells him when she has her breath back, tugging him down to the metal floor of the gunner's nest. He goes willingly, mouthing at the side of her neck.

The bench is just about the right height to kneel over, Furiosa realizes. She'd never noticed before and some background part of her wonders if any of her crew knew, if she won't be the first to get knotted pressed up to it.

She shivers at the reminder of the alpha's knot, how empty she feels and how sure she is that he'll be able to fill her like she needs. "Fuck me," she says against his lips, palming his cock through his leathers. "Give me your knot, alpha."

He growls, low and rumbling. She doesn't bother undressing more than it takes to get her trousers down enough to expose her cunt, turning away from him and leaning against the bench. Her back wants to arch, to thrust her ass up into the air so he can fuck her from the best angle, wants to present herself for him.

She must have missed the noise of his belt coming undone because when the alpha wraps an arm around her middle she can feel his cock right against her skin, hot and leaking and huge enough to make her whine with something between desire and apprehension. He nuzzles his face against the back of her neck- no pressure, no bite, just the rasp of stubble and warm wet of his mouth- and bends her down so her stomach is lying against the bench.

"There now," he mumbles, and kisses just behind her ear. So far it's nothing really like how she would have expected being taken by an alpha would be, even one who conceded to her so easily earlier, but there's plenty of time for things to change.

"Get inside me," Furiosa says, impatient.

He hums and leans away, and she immediately misses the weight and warmth of him along her back. But then he's rubbing the head of his cock against her cunt, like he's looking for her entrance or just wants to tease her. Before she can complain he starts pushing inside and she loses her breath.

She's fucked a few betas and never felt deprived, except when she's in heat. This alpha is larger than any of them and even with the hollowness inside her from the heat she already feels filled, feels stretched as he rocks back and forth, working his way deeper centimeter by centimeter. She tries widening the spread of her legs and is hampered by the leather around her thighs, tries pushing back against him but he has a grip on her hips, stopping any movements she might make.

"Easy, easy," he says, voice deep and reassuring. "'ve got you."

After what feels like a lifetime she feels his hips against her ass, his cock as deep inside of her as it can reach. He rests there unmoving while she closes her eyes and feels the itch, the _need_ , momentarily sated. She's panting, Furiosa realizes, as if it's a strain when this is nothing of what's to come, a thought that sends a shiver down her spine.

"Move," she says, going for commanding and ending up closer to whining, quiet and needy.

The alpha complies, drawing his hips back slowly, too slowly- only to slam back inside, startling a cry out of her. He isn't rough with her, not nearly as rough as some fucks she's had, but it's intense all the same to have an alpha holding her, filling her, moving inside her with deep strokes.

There are plenty of stereotypes about omegas and she's never begged, never let herself go that far, but she feels the way his cock has a swell near the base and has to bite her lip to keep from saying anything about how much she wants- needs- his knot inside of her. He's an alpha so he knows, surely he must know.

He lays himself down over her, pace going rough as his knot expands bit by bit, her cunt trying to catch hold of it on every stroke.

Furiosa is trying to hold back but she's making desperate noises, bucking under his weight. She can hear herself chanting 'alpha' over and over and hasn't a hope of stopping herself, not with the way he's heavy and solid over her, the way she can feel what she needs so close.

"Shh," he says, and then one of his hands is pressed over her mouth. She hates him for it but she's grateful at the same time, and pants against the rough cloth wrapped around his palm. His knot is swelling too big too fast to be ignored, until she can feel it pressing against her opening hot and firm and can't imagine how it's going to fit inside of her.

"Ready?" he asks right into her ear, and she isn't, isn't nearly ready for any of it but she nods.

The alpha nuzzles his face against hers and then sets his teeth against the skin at the back of her neck. She goes tense, even knowing it's impossible to fight; he presses down and her entire body relaxes instantly, going lax and pliant.

His knot grinds against her but even her cunt feels as if it's relaxed, malleable to his demands. She moans brokenly when it starts pressing inside, when her body opens to welcome his knot deep inside of her until she feels it settle in place. This is why she has that weakness at her back, the pressure point that renders her weak- because surely otherwise he'd never be able to get inside of her, never have her pussy welcome his knot so easily.

He takes his teeth away but Furiosa stays limp, relaxed with his weight on her and his thick knot inside her, swelling still further with every little twitch of his hips. He's mumbling against her skin, words she doesn't pay attention to.

The alpha moves his free hand down to her cunt and she hadn't given more than a spare thought to her clit, couldn't focus on anything but his cock and his knot, but he touches her there now and she gives an involuntary spasm at how it feels, good and bad and just so _much_. She comes with barely any effort on his part, eyes staring wide and glazed out ahead at nothing while electricity runs through every nerve in her body.

Then he groans, a deep noise rumbling against her back, and she can feel him start to come inside of her, hot splashes of seed in time with the throbbing of his cock. It makes her whine when she realizes that her cunt's matching the rhythm, clenching down in waves to draw out her climax while he spills.

The high of it lasts almost long enough to become painful, her body stretched and stuffed full as the pulses taper off slowly.

He moves his hands away from her clit and away from her mouth and she pants raggedly, sucking cool night air inside her lungs. Furiosa can't feel anything on the back of her neck, no painful wound, no trickle of hot blood. He'd bitten her but he hadn't bitten down, hadn't broken her skin, and she has no idea what to do with that.

"Max," the alpha says seemingly at random.

"What?" she asks, trying to turn her head back to look at him and not having much luck finding the right angle.

"My name. Max."

She puffs out a shivery breath of laughter, disbelieving. It's taken until he's buried balls-deep inside of her, tied together so well she can hardly imagine how they'll separate, for him to finally tell her his name.

He shifts so his weight is on his arm instead of on her back and the movement jars his knot, makes her walls squeeze down while she holds in a noise at the feeling. She's never felt like this during a heat, never actually had the aching hollowness filled up.

The alpha- Max- keeps his other hand down on her hip, thumb sweeping back and forth on her exposed skin.

"You didn't bite me," she says.

"No," he agrees, and doesn't explain himself.

Furiosa can't really imagine why not, _how_ not. He sent her into heat in the first place just from his presence, and once they stopped fighting against each other and started to fight with each other she could tell that they were good together, that he matched her. But he didn't sink his teeth into her, didn't claim her even when she laid herself out for the taking.

The bench under her is a convenient height by coincidence, but she remembers the stands in the Breeder's Den, the shackles and collars meant to keep an omega still for mating without allowing any of the alphas bond to them. It makes her want to squirm but the slightest movement causes her cunt to flex around his knot, and she feels his hand sneak back around her front again.

His fingers brush against her clit and she makes a low noise, which is apparently encouragement to him because he starts circling around her clit while he moves his hips minutely, grinding his knot right into the sensitive spots she's never been able to get fingers or beta dick to touch right. She doesn't even know if she _wants_ to come now that she's so full and the heat isn't completely clouding up her head, but she says nothing to stop him.

Max mouths at the back of her neck again, just kisses without more than a hint of teeth, and when she shakes her way through an orgasm he rumbles low and pleased against her back.

He keeps moving until she says, "Enough, enough." His fingers slide away again, his hips still.

"How much longer?" Furiosa asks. She can't tell if his knot is shrinking at all and she has no idea how long a tie like this _should_ last, anyway; the alphas in the barracks chattered happily about their matings but she knows better than to trust anything she hasn't seen with her own eyes.

He makes a noise like a shrug.

Helpful. She focuses on not jarring the knot inside of her, the bare padding of the bench just enough to keep the metal from feeling like it's trying to dig into her stomach. Max lays over her, warm and heavy, and some part of her loves the feeling of it, feels protected rather than trapped.

His knot slowly shrinks and she's unprepared for the feeling of his cum leaking out around it, more than seems possible starting to drip down her thighs. She's going to be _filthy_ when this is over and the same part of her that likes being covered by him likes the thought of it, his seed and his scent all over her skin.

He pulls back every now and again, testing whether he can withdraw yet; when he deems it possible he doesn't hold her neck to ease the way but just tugs himself out, and she grunts at the abrupt stretch at her opening as his knot exits her. She's empty again but Furiosa doesn't feel empty the way she had before, feels tired and sore more than hollow. It's still simmering in her blood, waiting to be reignited, but it isn't eating her up again yet.

He shuffles back and she picks herself up off the bench, hand moving down to her crotch to try and at least wipe away some of the seed leaking out of her.

"I could help you, mm, clean up," Max says.

She twists around to look at him, and it's dark but she can make out enough of his expression to see that it's an honest offer. "Alright," she says, and already knows she isn't going to bend back over for him.

She moves to sit on the bench properly, facing him, and pushes her leathers further down her legs. Being exposed at all with the open wasteland all around them sets Furiosa on edge, has her eyes scanning what she can see out of the nest's opening, but the hungry way he's looking at her makes her spread her legs a bit more, showing off almost.

He makes a nearly-inaudible pleased noise and then moves in close to her, hands landing on the tops of her legs. To her surprise he actually does seem to focus on cleaning her up, tongue laving broad strokes against the skin of her thighs where her own slick and his seed smeared, working his way slowly inwards.

She had thought that she was going to be done for a while, heat momentarily sated, but by the time he's reached the outer lips of her cunt her breathing is heavy again, hot want curling through her.

Max teases her- or maybe he really is just going to clean her up, tongue not deviating from the simple licking he'd shown the rest of her, even when she rolls her hips up into his mouth. He licks right into the opening of her cunt and she lets out a noise like a whimper, unable to stop herself from putting her hand in his hair to keep him down there.

His hands slide from her knees up to the wings of her hips and he stops teasing, starts eating her out in earnest. She can't buck up into his mouth with his hands holding her down but she can't help trying, wishes her trousers weren't keeping her legs trapped between his body and the bench so she could wrap them around him.

It's good, and Furiosa's pretty sure she's going to come in the next ten seconds or so, but it's making her feel so _empty_ again. "I need your fingers," she says, with a tug on his hair to make sure he's paying attention. "Need you inside me."

He makes a low noise that she can feel against her and it has her coming, even before he gets one of his hands over to her cunt. He slips a pair of fingers inside of her and it's so far from what she wants, what she needs, that it's almost laughable.

"Tell me you can go again," she says. She has no idea what sort of recovery alphas have, if she's going to have to go out of her mind with waiting. She tugs at his hair again.

He pulls away and looks up at her, licking her wetness off his lips; he leaves his fingers inside of her, better than nothing at all. "Yeah?" Max asks.

"You need to fuck me again," she says, in case he hadn't heard her clearly or was somehow confused about what she's asking.

He hums and starts rocking his fingers inside of her cunt again, whether because his dick's too limp or he's being a teasing shit; either way she surges off the bench with his hands no longer holding her down. She puts her weight on him but he doesn't fall back, and the casual display of alpha strength just adds to her growing fervor. His fingers slipped away of course when she moved and she hates how hollow she feels from it, thinks maybe his knot has ruined her for wanting anything else. Furiosa uses the grip she still has on his hair to hold him for her to kiss, his lips swollen and slick.

"You need to fuck me or I'll find an alpha who will," she threatens, though she has no intention of doing so. Val's the only other alpha in the group and she would do it, Furiosa knows she would, and if she hadn't met Max she'd probably have no reservations about going down to her.

The remark hits home because he growls and grabs at her, pulling her close to feel that his cock's hard again after all. "You won't," he says, and she bites at his lip.

"Stop me," she says, making no move to leave.

Max kisses her, searing, and she rolls herself against his body. Then he breaks off with a pained noise and a low curse, and she isn't so far gone to ignore it.

"What?" she asks. It's possible that there's still something sharp laying on the floor up here, though she'd swept it clear earlier when she was hoping to sleep.

"Knee," he says shortly, and she remembers the brace strapped onto his leg.

"Can you still..." she says, the teasing challenge gone from her to be replaced with concern, equally for whether she's going to get a knot after all and for whether he's okay.

"Yeah," he says, "Just, here. Lie down?"

Furiosa nods and they rearrange themselves, the cold metal of the tank welcome against her burning skin when she lays down on it. He takes off his jacket and folds it to be a pillow, and she buries her face into the leather to get his scent in her nose, thick and heady enough to make her throb with desire. He presses up against her back, still covering her at least part of the way, and it doesn't take too long before he's sliding his cock inside of her for the second time.

It's less of a surprise this time, takes less work, but she still lets out a shuddery moan when he bottoms out. He moves more slowly but she isn't pinned down like she was before and can move against him, with him, and that helps satisfy the ache inside of her while she tries to get his knot to catch well before it's large enough to do so. She wonders if he'll bite her this time, connect them more permanently.

She brings her hand down to her cunt and he groans as she skates her fingers around where his cock is disappearing inside her, the growing knot hot against her fingertips. She rubs her clit, asking him- _telling_ him- to knot her.

Max sets his teeth against the back of her neck and she moans; he bites her with exquisite pressure and she starts coming as his knot sinks inside of her, the stretch sudden and perfect as he ruts his hips against her, settling in place. He keeps his teeth on her as he comes, filling her up so good, her alpha's so good for her.

"Shh," he whispers in her ear, the shush making her aware of the ridiculous words that are spilling out of her mouth.

Furiosa clamps her teeth together and turns her face to muffle herself with his jacket while she waits for the rush to end, waits for his knot to stop feeling like the only thing in the world that matters. It feels like it's slower to happen this time, every little movement bringing it back to the forefront of her mind.

"Should try and sleep," he says, and she huffs.

" _You_ try sleeping with a fist inside you," she says.

He hums a little and nuzzles against the side of her neck, arm wrapped heavy and warm around her middle. She _has_ slept in less comfortable settings, though the idea is still ridiculous to her. Easy enough for him to want to drift off when he has the easy job.

She can't feel his knot throbbing anymore and she sighs, unsure if it's relief or regret. Being tied like this is better than she'd imagined, no matter that her instincts had always tried pushing her towards alphas anyway, and she knows that at least part of it is because instead of some random alpha it's Max snugged up against her. Less than two days ago they were trying to kill one another and now the thought of his knot slipping away has her squeezing her cunt around him like she can hold him fast.

But that's life in the wasteland, where you find what you need damn quick and grab it tight as you can.

His knot _does_ shrink enough to leave her eventually and she's a mess again, but she doesn't think she could stand to have his mouth on her now. "There are rags," Furiosa says, not moving except to nod her head in the vague direction she means.

He hands her a scrap of cloth and she rubs herself down brusquely, just getting the worst of it off and leaving the rest for later. There's more water in the War Rig's tank than they have containers for, and the thought of rinsing off fully when this is over is immensely appealing. She drags her trousers back up and then twists to look at him, likewise cleaned and redressed.

She won't ask him to stay, even though the thought of him leaving her entirely makes something inside of herself gnash its teeth.

Max looks at her for a moment, like he's evaluating her, and she stares steadily back until his gaze flinches away again. He nods his head a little bit and grabs the discarded blanket, and she feels a sweep of relief. She doesn't feel as if she needs a blanket with her body still running hot but she likes the reassurance of it, the illusion of safety and comfort, and crawls under the cover with him.

She curls up facing out and expects him to wrap himself around her, but instead she feels his spine settling against hers, and even with the heat still in her veins it's more reassuring than being held.

   
  


Furiosa is pretty sure the only reason she doesn't panic when she wakes up with a man lying mostly on top of her is because she can practically _see_ the tether running between them. There's been a cord she could feel, a tugging on her instincts, since he grabbed her by the neck but this is something larger, stronger. But he hadn't claimed her, she can feel the distinct lack of a bite wound on her neck.

He blinks himself awake far more quietly than he had the day before, his head lifting up off her chest while he gets his bearings. Max mumbles something and she pushes at his shoulder until he levers himself off of her entirely, allowing her to slip out from under him. She can still feel the heat under her skin but right this minute she wants to empty her bladder and get something to eat more than she wants his knot.

She gets to her feet and stretches, back and legs protesting dully. Down on the ground they're already awake, and Gale gives her a cheeky smile and a wave. Furiosa considers ducking back out of sight but sends back a loose wave of her own instead.

She'd known that it would be no secret, and while she wishes it hadn't happened quite so soon after being reunited with them, she _is_ an omega. Going into heat is an inevitability.

Max is sitting up when she looks back at him, awake and aware.

She rubs her chest. "You didn't bite me," she says, "But..." But I still feel you, still feel like there's a chain between us, and that doesn't make any sense.

"Heat bond," he says with a nod, and then tilts his head, considering. "You've never...?"

Furiosa doesn't want to admit it, but her silence will be just as damning. "This is my first heat with an alpha."

He looks surprised, and she wonders how she should take the reaction. "It'll fade," he says, which is good, obviously, because she shouldn't be bonding herself to anyone. It's also far more terrible to hear than she would have thought, though whether that's her riled up biology speaking or anything else she couldn't say.

"I'm getting food," she says, and without waiting for a reply starts walking down the tanker.

When she joins the main camp Valkyrie takes a showy sniff and wrinkles her nose at her, but holds out a cup of last night's crow stew anyway. " _Good_ morning~"

She takes the mug and resists the urge to roll her eyes at the teasing. "We should get packing," she says.

"Yeah, no," Val says. "We're taking the girls out for bike lesson today instead."

"I'm fine," Furiosa says, knowing that the excuse of lessons was only found to give her more time to prove herself the same as every other omega, useless without a knot in her.

"Take the day, Furi," she says, tone soft. "The Plains will still be there tomorrow."

They do have the supplies to stay, and there still hasn't been any sign that the Citadel followed them past where they were mired, and even though she _could_ force herself to stay up and aware on the back of a bike, what she really wants is to find Max again so he can soothe the ache inside of her. Furiosa blows a breath through her nose but nods her head.

"Now eat up," Valkyrie says, teasing again. "You're going to want your strength."

   
  


She takes a canteen full of water back up to the gunner's nest with her and finds that Max had similar thoughts, a bottle in hand and packet of jerky in one of his pockets. The ache had started out slow, so manageable she's certain she would have been fine driving, but as soon as she's back in the nest and can smell the both of them in the small space it revs back up.

Even heat-addled Furiosa knows it's a bad idea to strip down in the wastes but she wants him skin-to-skin, feels as if she needs it. She lets him undo her stomach piece and push up her shirt while he takes off his own, lets him strip her leathers off one leg entirely so she can cradle him between her thighs when he fucks her with her back against the slowly-warming metal of the tanker. It's a mistake.

She likes it- wants it, needs it- well enough at first, and then his knot is huge and heavy inside of her and she can _look_ at him while they're connected. It's a heat-bond he'd said, something that will fade, and damn him because two days ago she wanted him dead even through the haze of instincts demanding otherwise and now she has to turn her face away and cover her eyes to avoid showing him how much she wants to keep him.

Max keeps moving against her less like he's trying to intentionally grind his knot into her and more like his knee is uncomfortable in this position, but it still results in her wailing as she comes from nothing but his knot like exactly the sort of omega she never wanted to be.

She rides him the next time, facing away to show him her back, and slaps his hand away when he reaches for her pressure-point. Furiosa uses gravity and her own damn will to take his knot without the benefit of an unnaturally relaxed body and it's more difficult than she would have expected after their previous rounds, but she manages.

When they come untied he licks her clean and she feels so incredibly sore. The buzz in her veins is dying down already; she's never had a long heat cycle and this one has been burning since he first got her pinned.

"I think this will be the last," she says, draping herself over the bench again.

He puts his face right against her neck to inhale her scent and then lets out a hum of agreement.

Her skirt is rucked up and she forgot the other reason it's a liability until he traces his finger across her back, and she remembers the tattoo they'd forced on her, the thick lettering put under her skin while she was still weak from the infection.

"You're..." he says.

"Barren," Furiosa says, "Sorry." It was supposed to be sarcastic, sorry for not being a perfect breeder, but right now she _is_ sorry. She doesn't want children but her body does, wants it so much, and the reminder that she can't adds a layer of desperation.

"It's okay," he says. "Don't want any." It's another spike of rejection against her- she isn't good enough to bond and now she isn't even good enough for him to want to breed, and she hates him for it, hates herself for how much it matters.

When Max fucks her he's slower about it, more careful, exactly what she _doesn't_ want.

"Speed up," she bites out for what feels like the dozenth time. "I know you can fuck harder."

In reply he sets his teeth against her neck just enough for her to feel the promise of them and brings one of his hands down to her clit.

Furiosa squeezes her eyes tight and bucks up under him, limbs kicking out as she fights for control of the pace if nothing else. He lets out a low rumbling growl and she snarls back, struggling against him until he replaces the teeth on her neck with a hand, squeezing down enough to make her go limp.

"You here?" he asks into her ear, and she hates that he isn't a normal alpha who just takes and takes.

She doesn't reply except to growl wordlessly and his movements go almost entirely still; the noise she makes at this barely feels human, a cry of loss.

"Hey," Max says, "Okay?"

"Alpha," she rasps out, weak and needy and honest. "Please, Max." Please bond her this time, claim her for real, tell her she's his and he's hers.

He starts moving his hips again, still that damnably slow pace that makes her want to claw at him, and keeps his hand rather than his mouth on her neck to hold her still. When his knot fills out inside of her she nearly sobs to feel him shudder and come, hating absolutely everything about this.

He's almost unbearably hot lying against her in the midday heat but the weight of him and the feeling of his skin against hers is reassuring, calming. He doesn't ask if she's okay again but instead just waits out his knot quietly.

As soon as his knot feels small enough to tug out of her she reaches behind her and shoves; he moves reluctantly but pulls himself out, small enough to leave but large enough that she grunts at the discomfort. Furiosa doesn't look at him while she grabs one of the remaining rags and wipes away all the cum that's smeared between her legs.

The heat inside of her is extinguished, nothing but the thrumming, false connection between them left. She wants to curl up against him and nap, covered in his scent and presence while she recovers from the exertion of it. Instead as soon as she's dressed she climbs back down to the sand and straps her arm back on, grateful for the heavy solidity of it.

   
  


And then he has the audacity to suggest that instead of testing the Salt like they'd agreed, like they'd planned, that they instead turn around and charge into probable death.

He looks at her while he says it, while the women exchange thoughts on the idea.

Damn him, Furiosa thinks to herself when he says they might find something like redemption _together_ , when he holds out his hand for her to take in agreement because somehow she's the leader, the deciding vote. The bond between them purrs when they touch.

   
  


She only vaguely remembers what happened in the back of the Gigahorse, Max stabbing the air back into her lungs and pouring blood back into her veins, but she does remember him holding her steady through it.

He stays a steady presence as they ascend into the shitshow waiting for them inside the Citadel, saying very little but standing besides or behind her, giving her a hand against her back between the hurt places or a shoulder to lean on when she needs to catch her breath but can't let them see her as weak. It's a long day, but Furiosa was well-liked as far as Imperators go and the women draw in support like moths to a flame, enough so that when it's dark and she nearly collapses from exhaustion she lets herself be brought to her room to sleep.

Max helps her into bed and then hovers, uncertain.

She moves to the side as well as she can, making space for him. Her bed isn't wide but it's little more than a mattress on the floor; he'll have only a short distance to go if he falls off.

He takes off his boots and jacket and climbs in next to her, sharing her thin pillow and her thin blanket. The inside of her chest feels warm in a way that has nothing to do with what she's sure is a brewing infection and everything to do with the cord still running between them, thrumming happily at having him so close.

"How long do heat-bonds last?" she asks.

He hums noncommittally.

Helpful. Furiosa turns her hand over and laces their fingers together, too tired to wonder about how he might take the gesture. He squeezes back and shuffles in a little bit closer so she can feel his warmth against her side again.

"I think," he says, and she rolls her head to look at him. His face is upturned, staring at the gloomy ceiling. "I think my blood might've." Max looks at her from the corner of his eye, and then away again. "...We might be bonded."

She goes still. It's what she had wanted with the heat burning up her veins but now that it's over and she's in her right mind again... She isn't sure if it's possible to break a bond aside from death, isn't sure what it really means to be bonded. To be claimed.

"Does it need to be dealt with now?" Furiosa asks. She thinks not, or else he would have brought it up before she collapsed into bed, but she wants to make sure.

He shakes his head.

"Then sleep," she says.

"You're, um, not angry?" he asks, glancing at her again. His hand is still holding hers, but lightly enough that she could break free without effort.

"Did you mean for it to happen?" she replies.

Max shakes his head again.

"I'm not mad at you, then," she says. It's entirely possible that once she's woken up and can think more clearly she'll be furious, but right now she is achingly tired and his seemingly-honest word that he hadn't intended to force her into anything is reassurance enough.

He lets out a relieved breath and she looks at his profile in the dark, heavy brows and straight nose and thick lips. She'd told the Vuvalini that he was reliable and he is, and he'd followed her orders even after knowing she's an omega, and he'd had her over a bench like a breeding bitch and still asked if she was okay, if she wanted it. No, she thinks, he isn't the type to do all that and _then_ force a mating bond on her.

It's something else to deal with in the morning, like the question of how to get into the storerooms or what to do with Corpus. Furiosa holds onto his hand and lets herself fall asleep, lets herself hope he's still hers when he wakes up.


End file.
